Discovering James
by PhantomOCD
Summary: Mary is finally given a chance to have her own dreams come true and experience a part of Neverland that is all her own. Revision In Progress.
1. His Heart in Writing

_Discovering James_

By: PhantomOCD

_Disclaimer: Finding Neverland and all the characters associated with the movie are not mine, nor do I make any claim to them. _

_I chose to write this for a couple different reasons. One, I was disappointed at how little effort was put forth to save the __Barrie__'s marriage. Two, I couldn't find any sign of someone writing a fan fiction like this one. So, here it is. I do hope you like it. Please review! Even if it is something that you don't like, review. Constructive criticism is very helpful. _

* * *

He left his journal. The one thing he never let out of his sight, and he had left it lying there. 

The fact almost pleased her. At least it showed that he wasn't quite as unmoved as he had tried to appear. How furious he had made her, going through his little pretend conversation and insisting he knew just what she would have said had he dared to question her.

Of course, were she honest with herself she would have to admit that maybe she would have confronted him, thrown the accusation back in his face. It was true after all. He had been at the widow's all evening as had become his normal routine as of late. However, if she were to be completely honest with herself, she would have to admit that even before the widow and her boys had become a part of James' life, he still hadn't been around in the evenings. Not if he could find somewhere else to be. Oh, he had been here more often, that was true. Even when he was, however, he might as well have not been home.

_What is it that keeps my husband from me? Where does he go, the rare evening he stays home but spends the time lost in his daydreams? What about that family has so captured his attentions? _

Eyeing the journal he had left there, she realized that this might be her only chance. She could never make him understand otherwise. How do you explain to someone that even when he is next to you, he seems as though he might as well be a million miles away? No, he wouldn't understand, not if she tried to explain. She would have to go about it another way.

With a sly glance about her, she reached out as she walked by, tucking the journal close by her side, and headed quickly for her bedroom. Closing the door behind her, she turned on a lamp and settled into a chair, planning only to skim through his journal before returning it to where he had left it lying. Her hands shook as she moved to open the journal. There in lay bare James' very soul. Would she be able to accept it?

* * *

She had not been able to return the journal. Nor had she been able to merely skim through it. From the first word to the very last, she had read it all. It revealed so very much to her. This was what she had always dreamed of, the place she had so hoped he would take her. Neverland. What a magical place! 

At first, she had been confused. The journal appeared to be nothing more than strange, random thoughts. Things that James had seen, and yet surely he never truly saw them! Finally, she had realized that she was looking at the world through his eyes. Everyday settings became enchanted places. People's true nature shined through, be it good or bad. Society as it existed in her life become nothing more than a grousing old hen.

Oh, how she wished he would take her there. How tired she was of society's pretenses. To be honest, it was much the reason she had agreed to marry James. Love had little to do with it at the time. She had been infatuated with him. He had always been the perfect gentleman, and yet his artistic nature led him to care little for what others thought of him. For a time, he had cared what she thought of him though. It wasn't long before he realized she didn't love him, however, and her opinion no longer mattered after that. She had never meant to lie to him – never had she claimed she loved him. Nonetheless, he had grown cold, and upon their move into the house they currently lived in, he moved into a separate bedroom.

That was when she had realized she might never get a chance to understand him. She had given up hope then. Rather than ignore society, as she had once dreamed, she did her best to better it. She had distanced herself, too, in her own way.

Now that she had read his journal, now that she finally had a chance at truly understanding him, she realized that she could love James. Maybe she already did love him. Perhaps it was time she truly attempted to salvage her marriage, before it was too late.

Taking a deep breath in an attempt to prepare herself for this next confrontation, she headed downstairs to catch James.


	2. Oh, the Drama

_I'm really sorry that it took so long to get this out. I wanted to make it longer, but I figured it would be a good ending for the chapter. Lots of thanks to aLL aMeRIcAn gIRl 50 and H.M. Chandler! _

* * *

"_Where is it?!" _

The ten minutes that had passed since the time James had first walked into the Parlor in search of his journal had now led to complete pandemonium. The couch had just been torn apart, the desk had been ransacked, and James' vocabulary was about to backslide. Mouth open as he took a deep breath in preparation to scream for Sarah, the parlor maid, he quickly spun around to be met with a surprising sight. In fact, it even shocked him momentarily. Unfortunately it wasn't quite long enough to overtake his anger.

Eyeing Mary as she stood there with his journal held in her outstretched hand, he couldn't help but take notice of her rumpled appearance. Rarely did she appear before even James in anything but the latest fashions – all strictly modest – with her hair done to perfection. That was hardly the case this morning. Her hair hung in waves down her back, and she still wore her dressing gown.

The fact that her unkempt appearance made her all the more appealing did not improve James' mood in the least. In fact, it gave him not a small amount of pleasure to see her arm beginning to tremble from holding the heavy journal outstretched for so long.

Keeping his eye on his journal as though afraid it would disappear again, he questioned her with a slow preciseness that showed his anger.

"Tell me, _my dear_, wherever did you find it?"

"You know perfectly well where I found it, _darling_." She shoved it at him so quickly he barely caught it in time.

Glaring, he snapped back. "I do hope you weren't too horribly disappointed with not finding a single love letter or even a confession. That is what you were looking for, isn't it?"

"Why would I ever need a confession James? A confession requires there to be a secret to confess. You have never made any of your actions a secret," she hissed back before sailing from the room.

_

* * *

_

Okay, so things hadn't exactly gone as she had originally planned. So much for a heartfelt talk leading to a nice happily ever after. Sighing in frustration, Mary flopped down on her bed. This was great, just great. Not only had she just helped to make things worse, now James was even more furious than he had been before. He probably hated her now.

"_Hate is only a step away from love, darling. You can't hate someone without first caring enough about them to feel that strongly."_ Her grandmother's advice from so many years ago rang in her ears. If only that were true. If only James did still love her…

With a grin, Mary popped up from her previously prone position on the bed. Now _that_ gave her an idea.

_

* * *

_

"No, no, no! That's not at all the way I wrote it! What's going on here today? Why can't anyone get it right for once?"

James had reached the end of his patience, and that was saying something. To be honest, he had been in a foul mood all day. _It's her fault. Just look at how my morning started off. _Grumbling to himself, he ordered them to go through the scene once more. Settling into one of the theater chairs, he propped his head upon his fisted hand and wondered what he did to deserve such a crummy day. He hadn't even seen the boys.

Groaning in frustration, he concluded that the day would be best if it ended here. So that's exactly what he did.

After a quick dismissal of everyone that included an apology and thank you for their hard work, James headed out of the theater. A few quick instructions and the toss of a couple coins sent two messenger boys each on their own respective mission. Whistling, James headed down the steps and started his stroll to the park. Perhaps the day could be salvaged after all.


	3. A Conflict of Plans

Staring in her mirror, Mary watched her personal maid twist the last curl just so. She wanted everything to be perfect.

"Thank you, Liana. It looks wonderful."

"No problem Mrs. Would you like for me to help with your gown?"

After receiving an affirmative answer, Liana quickly and efficiently helped with her corset and gown. As soon as she finished, Liana was dismissed from the room and Mary turned to study her reflection in the mirror. Her dress was solid in color, a deep blue that was so dark it appeared black until the light shined directly on it. The bust, cuffs, and length of the skirt were accented by a simple black lace. The neckline, although by no means immodest, was different than her normal wear. When she had ordered the dress, the designer, Madame Deluge, had taken it upon herself to change the neckline. Mary did not return to her shop after her impertinence.

Mary stood debating whether she should wear the dress for a long while. Giggling nervously, she told herself that she was being silly. It was still far more modest than the day's fashions called for, and she was wearing it for her husband after all. No one else would see her. And it was very flattering. The dress, rather than beginning at her throat, wrapped around her shoulders, exposing her collarbone. It fit tightly down to her hips, showing off her small waist made tiny by the tightened corset, before flaring out in flowing waves of silk and light fabric, reaching to the floor. To complete the ensemble, Liana had pulled her hair up in a soft design that suited her face well, and she wore small black heels.

Taking a deep breath to compose herself, she headed down the stairs to check on dinner preparations, then settled on the coach to wait for James to arrive home from work.

* * *

"Really and truly, Uncle James?! Yay! Mother, Mother! Guess what? We're going horseback riding with Uncle James! Hurry Mother!"

Laughing, Sylvia let herself be pulled along by little Jack. "Now what's all this about? I'm quite sure I haven't heard a word of any of this from James!"

"That's because I just thought of it myself." Sylvia gasped and spun around to see James leaning against a tree in her front yard. "Oh, you startled me. What did you just think of?"

"Horseback riding at a friend's country estate, along with a picnic at the end of the trail. Well, what do you think?" He developed the tone of a child. "Please? We promise to be good - most of the time anyway."

Giggling, she gave in to the pleas of the most important men in her life. They all had a marvelous time together, as usual, with James playing make-believe with the boys the whole evening.

It would be very late that night before James returned home to find Mary asleep on the couch, the evidence of tears on her cheeks.

* * *

Mary woke to a familiar scent, a sandalwood cologne that she would forever relate in her mind to her husband, and a soft, slightly moist pressure on her cheek. _Did he just kiss me?_ But when she opened her eyes, he was settled on the table in front of her and gave no sign of having kissed her. She stared at him with sorrowful eyes, a little embarrassed and still upset. The look of admiration in his eyes as they slowly took in her dress helped the matter greatly, however. Finally, after a long period of silence, she spoke.

"I'm sorry."

"For what, Mary?"

"I'm sorry I read your journal without your permission, James."

"I'm the one that should apologize. I overreacted. I only wished you had asked. It's not that I mind that you know my thoughts. Not really. It's just…_why?_ Why the sudden interest?"

"Curiosity I suppose. I wanted to know who my husband is."

James reached out, pushing a curl out of her eyes.

"You don't have to steal my journal to get to know me, Mary."

"I don't? How else then James?" She grabbed his hand before he pulled it away. "Would you finally be willing to put me first? Would you willingly give us the chance to get to know one another?"

James stared down at their hands. He knew what she wanted, knew what she meant. From the evidence around him, he could see that she wanted them to fight for whatever they might have left. But would he be able to go back? Could he bring himself to back away from his current commitments enough to give another try at something he had come so close to giving up on?

"What more do you want of me, Mary?" The words themselves were harsh, but his tone was soft, his accent sounding a bit stronger than normal.

She cringed, knowing he referred to the fact that he had loved her when she hadn't loved him. Still, she refused to lash out in defense, but instead gave a calm reply. "I want you to come home to me, James. When rehearsals are finished, I want you to return home rather than going anywhere but here – rather than going with _them._ Can you do that James? Can you give us just that much?"

He stared at her for several minutes, considering her words and weighing their value. A small, sideways grin came across his face. "And what of you? Will you be here, or will you be off helping with your latest charity social?"

"I'll be here James. But if you're not, then I'll know that there isn't anything left for us. I will know that you don't want me here any longer."

Before James could object to her statement, she went up the stairs and returned to her dark bedroom. James followed soon after, but turned instead to the left, returning once again to the world of light within his imagination.

* * *

_Review Please._


	4. Disconcerting Realizations

_Squinting in concentration, he tried to pinpoint the latest antagonist to the production. Something was off. Perhaps- _

A warm breath tickled his ear before an alto voice softly whispered, "Boo!"

Feeling ridiculous for jumping and, to his private horror, blushing, James turned to face the woman sitting in the theatre seat beside him. "Sylvia! This is quite the surprise. Where are the boys?"

"They will catch up in just a minute, no doubt. I'm afraid they've been squabbling all day; something about the layout of a tree house." She sent him The Look – the one that all women seem to have so well perfected to make a man squirm. "You don't know anything about that, do you James?"

He studied her for a moment, finally relaxing back into his seat at the twinkle in her eye. "Who, me? Now why would you think I would put any schemes into those boys' heads? I'm innocent, of course." With difficulty, he controlled the grin attempting to spread across his face.

Sighing, Sylvia relented. "You really are helpless, James," she said as she poked him in the side.

Once again James found himself jumping, though he tried to cover this time by standing. Heading for the aisle, he waved a hand in the air as he spoke. "Of course I am. It's why I'm so irresistible," he teased!

"Yes, you are," Sylvia quietly agreed. Spinning James turned to stare at her in shock. _Did she really just-? No. She would never. I'm just going crazy. Yes, that's it. I've gone insane!_ Comforted by this thought, James headed for the door, calling behind him. "Let's find those boys of yours, shall we?"

* * *

"I'm sorry, truly I am, but I simply can not stay tonight. I promised my husband I would be home by six and it's nearly five thirty now."

"Well," Miss Duval said condescendingly, staring down her nose at Mary, "I suppose everyone has a different set of priorities, no? You know, it was not by putting others before my charity work that I gained the position I'm in now."

_No wonder the old hag never married_, Mary thought uncharitably. Smiling politely she agreed before rushing for the door. She had made a promise to James, and even if it meant her position in society, she would not break it. He meant too much to her.

* * *

"No! Just because you're older doesn't mean you're stupid ideas are better than mine," Peter shouted into George's face.

Lightly shoving Peter away, George responded in a superior tone. "Of course it does Peter. Don't worry, you'll understand one of these days- when you're older." He said that last bit very smugly, looking down at his nails. _If only Peter would hush up,_ he thought,_ maybe we could get inside and I could show Uncle James my plans for the tree house!_

Peter's face flushed bright red and he shoved back, harder. George quickly went from irritated to furious. Shoving Peter back several feet, he screamed at him to back off. What followed was a shoving and shouting war that would lead to disaster.

* * *

"Maybe they never made it inside," Sylvia suggested as James opened the door for her. They stepped outside in time to see George shove Peter so hard that he landed on his left side, several feet away on the hard stone walkway. Peter's face lost all color, and Sylvia's, in turn, blanched in shock. Gagging, Peter was positive he would throw up from the pain. His arm lay beside him at an unnatural angle.

"It's okay, Peter. We'll get you to a doctor right away. It'll be better soon, son," James reassured from Peter's side, where he had somehow managed to be mere seconds after the accident occurred.

Sniffing, Peter tried his best not to cry. "It – it hurts really bad, Uncle James!" Sylvia, after giving George a warning look of what was to come, had also rushed to his side. She smoothed his hair away from his forehead as James found material to construct a makeshift sling. "It's okay, darling. Cry if you like."

Sniffing, Peter objected, "I can't cry, Mother. Men don't cry." James paused at this announcement, looking into the boy's eyes. "That's strange, Peter. I rather had the idea that I was a man and I cry, Peter. There's no shame in it. Not when there is something worthy of your tears. And I'm thinking this just might be one of those times."

* * *

Mary rushed in the door at ten 'till six, face flushed, but delighted that she had made it on time. Smiling she called out to James, hoping he was already home. As Mary once again called out his name, she heard a noise from the parlor. Turning with a bright, hopeful look, she was quickly hid her disappointment as Sarah came towards her. "Master Barrie is not home yet, Madame. May I assist you?" Rejecting her offer, Mary headed upstairs to freshen up, certain that James would soon arrive.

"You're positive you are all right now, Sylvia? Do you need me to wait for Peter to get out?" James said as he once again paced back across the waiting room of a local doctor's office.

"We'll be fine, James, truly. I'm feeling much better now, and I'm sure Peter will be out soon. You've already handled everything for me! Thank you so much. I'm not so sure I could have handled it without you," she responded in a grateful, if not adoring, tone.

"Of course you could have, and splendidly, no doubt. Well, give my best to Peter then. Goodbye boys!" After a round of hugs, James headed out the door of the doctor's office and down the street. Whistling as he strolled along, the town clock that was behind him quite a ways down the street, chimed out the time - seven 'o clock in the evening. Stopping in his tracks, he felt his stomach tighten into a sickening knot. Spinning he stared at the clock in horror. Only upon hearing the clock strike seven had he remembered his promise to Mary. Taking off at a run, he hurried to hail a cab, not caring that his carriage was waiting back at the theatre, his only concern getting home to Mary.

Across town, Mary was finishing packing enough things to do her for several weeks. As she slipped off her wedding band and laid it on her dresser, her hands shook and her chest heaved for breath as she fell to the floor, sobbing.

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**_Review please! Thanks to H.M. Chandler, Tilts At Windmills, and Angel-of-Ballet!_**


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